


The Lion and the Rose

by Lady_in_Red



Series: ASOIAF in the BookWorld [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Thursday Next - Jasper Fforde
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, BookWorld, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M, Meta, Season/Series 04 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-19 22:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1486846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_in_Red/pseuds/Lady_in_Red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The characters of <em>A Song of Ice and Fire</em> watch a screening of season 4 episode 2, "The Lion and the Rose."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lion and the Rose

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place inside the BookWorld, a creation of Jasper Fforde’s _Thursday Next_ series. The conceit of the series is that book characters live in a world where they know they are fictional, and have lives outside of canon when their stories are not being read. These characters often refer to the real world as “the Outland” and items from that world are highly prized and frequently pirated.
> 
> Warning: Here be spoilers for "Games of Thrones" season 4.

Hodor wondered again if it might have been smarter to pretend he could not acquire a copy of this episode. “The Lion and the Rose,” it was cryptically called, but even his characters knew it was widely known in the Outland as “The Purple Wedding.”

Few book series were allowed to view their filmed versions, but Hodor had pulled strings to bring a television, DVD player, and DVDs into the Small Council Chamber of the Red Keep, the little-used room which also served as his base of operations. As page manager of _A Song of Ice and Fire_ , his job was to keep his characters happy, and this little indulgence, more than any other, kept his overworked and stressed characters going.

Hodor nervously rearranged bowls of snacks, most of them the flavored popcorn his characters preferred. For a long time he had cursed this, as the only popcorn he could acquire from the Outland came in a little silver tin and had to be popped over an open fire. Hodor had finally solved this problem by trading with Hagrid from the _Harry Potter_ books. Hodor understudied for Hagrid on occasion, and in return Hagrid provided popcorn from the Hogwarts kitchens. It wasn’t quite the same as Real food, but it came in a dizzying variety of flavors.

There was also plenty of wine, hippocras, and ale set out for the characters, as alternative beverages were even more difficult to acquire than popcorn, and the characters preferred alcohol anyway. Hodor did not expect many to overindulge, except perhaps the Queen Regent, if she attended. It seemed in rather poor taste to quaff wine while watching the opulent wedding of King Joffrey and Lady Margaery. The characters all knew how this episode would end, after all.

Hodor had studied reading patterns and scheduled the viewing for the least busy hour in each week, which happened to fall in the middle of Monday night in much of the Western Hemisphere. Even so, characters would have to duck out as needed unless they had found understudies to temporarily take their places.

The first characters to arrive, unsurprisingly, were a grim contingent of Starks. Bran and Rickon were missing, but Ned, Catelyn, Sansa, Arya, and Robb sat together at one end of the Small Council table, talking quietly amongst themselves. Arya busied herself cleaning her fingernails with a dagger.

Stannis Baratheon arrived early as well, his face grimly determined. Davos Seaworth was, as ever, at his side. Hodor was surprised to find Joffrey Baratheon walking in behind them, a smug smirk on the boy’s face. He enjoyed watching the older, more openly sadistic version of himself on television, but Hodor didn’t understand why the boy would want to watch his own demise.

The room filled swiftly after that, characters who didn’t often interact chatting amiably over goblets of wine. The mood was more celebratory than Hodor had expected, though the turnout was lower than usual. It seemed word had gotten out that Essos and the Wall weren’t in this episode, so of those groups only Jon Snow bothered to attend, slipping in to sit beside Arya.

Renly and Loras sat together, as always, Brienne in her blue cloak behind them, her lingering affection for her king obvious. Nearby were Lady Margaery and her cousins, all giggling and talking excitedly about the opulence of the event and what Margaery’s gown would look like. The other Tyrells were absent, though Lady Olenna usually attended screenings. She strongly approved of Diana Rigg’s portrayal of her. Lord Tywin had stopped attending after season 1, judging that Charles Dance did a tolerable job and his character on-screen was in good hands.

The chairs and benches nearly full, characters began standing along the walls as well. The Hound stood in one corner talking with Bronn, while Tyrion sat alone contemplating his wine. Oberyn eyed both the men and women, occasionally leaning over to talk with Littlefinger, who looked as if he already regretted attending this screening. Behind Oberyn, a one-handed, bearded Jaime sat close together with a second Brienne, road-weary but uninjured. The pair looked up with interest when Cersei unceremoniously dragged a furious, filthy Jaime into the room.

Hodor always experienced a moment of panic when multiple versions of a character showed up in the same place. If it ever happened when a Reader was present, Jurisfiction, the BookWorld police, would fine him at best, replace him at worst. The series had already endured one serious canon divergence, years ago. Hodor couldn't afford to make another mistake, and he discouraged characters from spending time with different versions of themselves.

Despite his efforts, just then the Small Council Chamber held Stark-captive Jaime as well as the one-handed Jaime of the Riverlands campaign, and both Brienne the Blue and the road-weary Brienne who searched for Sansa. Yet another Jaime, the arrogant Kingsguard who pushed Bran, rarely attended screenings. A single Cersei of her three versions was present. This one seemed to be from _A Storm of Swords_ and _A Feast for Crows_ , the heavy-drinking, paranoid version who caused the most trouble for Hodor. She was tough to keep even remotely happy.

Hodor moved to start the DVD as the filthy captive Jaime seated himself on a bench meant for three. Several characters moved away from his unfortunate stench until Jaime was an island unto himself. Cersei took a goblet of wine, insisting Hodor fill it nearly to the brim, and seated herself out of smelling distance of the odiferous Jaime.

For several minutes, the only sounds in the room were the dialogue on the screen, whispered conversations among the characters, and the crunch of popcorn. As always, Hodor looked away from the screen. He understood the other characters’ fascination with the show. It was entirely different to watch these scenes than it was to live them, even ignoring the differences between the books and the show.

But he didn’t like to watch his own scenes. The boy playing Bran on television was growing up, and still the series remained unfinished. Rumors from the Outland suggested that the show would overtake the books in a year, perhaps two. The notion of watching their futures play out on television was deeply unsettling to Hodor, though most of his characters seemed relieved at the prospect.

Several of the men present snickered when the Jaime Lannister on the screen admitted that he couldn’t fight anymore. “I’ve still got my sword hand. Just try me,” the fierce and temporarily two-handed swordsman muttered from his lonely bench. Tyrion shifted closer to his brother, despite the smell. Jaime’s one-handed doppelganger started to speak, but his lady knight whispered something in his ear and he desisted.

As Axell Florent pleaded for his life on-screen, Renly called across the room to Stannis. “I can’t imagine why the realm does not clamor to set a crown upon your head. Between slaughtering your own blood with black magic and letting a woman burn your goodbrother alive, it’s a wonder you have any bannermen left.”

Stannis barely spared a glance for his younger brother. He leaned forward slightly when Bran appeared on the screen, his eyes narrowed as Bran’s vision began.

“A dragon over King’s Landing,” Davos pointed out. “Better to suffer cold in the North than be roasted by dragonfire on the Iron Throne.”

“It’s only a shadow,” Stannis said dismissively.

“It was only a shadow that slew Renly, Your Grace,” Davos countered.

Stannis only grunted in reply as the scene shifted back to King’s Landing.  

When Joffrey hacked apart a rare book on-screen, his character inside the Small Council Chamber laughed hysterically. Arya dug her dagger into the table and muttered, “Widow’s Wail? Maybe the Hound was right about people who name their swords.”

“You named your sword,” Jon Snow protested.

She nodded grimly. “I was a stupid child.”

Margaery and her cousins giggled and marveled over the Great Sept of Baelor and Margaery’s thorny gown during the wedding, averting their eyes and making retching noises when the bride and groom kissed. “Try doing that every day,” Margaery said with a shudder.

“At least you didn’t have to suffer a bedding,” Sansa said timidly. Tyrion shot her a hurt look.

“I am sitting right here, you know,” Joffrey piped up in impotent fury.

Tyrion shushed his nephew loudly, leaning forward in his seat as the action shifted to the wedding feast. He followed each scene with sharp eyes. “I knew it,” he said triumphantly as Olenna Tyrell took a jewel from Sansa’s necklace.

“I told you,” Tyrion said emphatically to Cersei. “I’ve been telling you for fourteen years!”

“You would have done it if you’d thought of it. You’re not as clever as you think,” Cersei snapped, drinking deeply from her goblet.

Loras made a horrified little noise as his on-screen counterpart shared a lascivious look with Oberyn Martell. “Ugh, never,” he muttered.

Oberyn looked at Loras appreciatively. “We shall see,” he said with a laugh.

The blue-cloaked Brienne seated behind her king and his lover blushed. Loras and Renly were whispering to each other, and nearly missed Loras getting the last word with the Lord Commander on-screen. Renly laughed and called to the one-handed knight, “Seems you’ve lost your ability to spar with words as well, Kingslayer.”

“That’s quite the jibe coming from a dead man,” Jaime replied with a sharp smile, earning him a furious glare from his companion.

Hodor did not like the prickly mood building in the room. He retreated to the drinks table, behind Jaime and Brienne, and began gathering up and putting away the bottles of wine and ale.

Brienne approached the dais on the television. “I suppose I should be grateful _I_ never had to meet Joffrey,” Jaime’s Brienne said quietly.

Jaime smiled fondly and put one arm around her. “There’s my wench, always seeking the one bright spot in a dark world.”

Though Brienne had been irritated with him only moments before, her knight still managed to charm her. She smiled shyly back. “I can think of another one.”

Their attention shifted as Cersei engaged Brienne in conversation on the screen.

“That would have livened up the occasion,” Jaime said with a laugh.

Brienne blushed. “Oh, look at her face,” she whispered. “How awful.”

“She’ll be away from King’s Landing soon enough,” Jaime reminded her.

When Joffrey commanded everyone’s attention on-screen, the room fell silent. As the dwarves emerged from a giant lion’s head, the crowd of watchers began muttering.

“I believe we’ll take our leave now,” Margaery said brightly, she and her cousins swiftly making their exit.

Some characters who’d been standing along the walls quickly claimed their seats. Cersei rose to refill her wine, ignoring Hodor’s stammered apology that there was none left, but no one dared take her seat. She settled down irritably, still clutching her empty goblet, but began to smile as she watched the wedding entertainers.

Loras, Renly, the Starks, and Stannis all grew angrier as the scene progressed. Arya dug into the table with her dagger when Joffrey laughed again.

Tyrion looked away, unable to watch his humiliation. His two-handed brother reached out and touched Tyrion’s arm, offering more comfort than his on-screen counterpart.

Oberyn’s gaze followed the boy king on the television every time the boy sipped wine, and among the watchers, Joffrey fell silent, his mother’s hand locked around his arm.

Finally the boy king coughed. Oberyn leaned forward, a menacing grin spreading across his sharp features. Robb’s face betrayed no pleasure, but he grabbed his mother’s hand. Neither showed any upset while they watched the king sputter and gag. Sansa’s eyes were cold, and her father put an arm around her. She sagged against him.

Stannis rose from his chair, followed by Davos, and slipped out of the room as soon as the boy king fell to the ground.

“See?” Cersei stood, pointing an accusing finger at the screen. Her beautiful face was twisted in fury, all of it directed at the dirty, disheveled Jaime sitting in front of her. “You let him die.”

“I wasn’t there,” Jaime reminded her wearily.

“If you hadn’t run off and gotten captured none of this would have happened,” Cersei snarled.

“Would you have me break from what is written?” His eyes were hard as he regarded his sister. “How well did that work out for us last time?”

Hodor nearly dropped the bowl of popcorn he was carrying. The twins' poorly-timed tryst had been accidentally witnessed by so many Readers it had to be made canon, and Hodor had almost been fired.

The room was utterly silent except for Cersei’s sobs on-screen. The Starks rose and filed out, only Arya looking back for one last glance at Joffrey’s corpse. Other characters followed, wary of Cersei’s wrath.

An imperious but slightly shaking voice broke the silence. “I just died, in case you’ve already forgotten.” The withering effect of Joffrey’s words was hampered slightly when his voice cracked mid-sentence. “Perhaps one of you could focus on who’s important here?”

“Sweetling, of course,” Cersei soothed, moving to take her son in her arms.

Captive Jaime rolled his eyes. “Some things never change,” he said dryly, standing and moving toward the door. “Come, wench. We’ve a date with an arakh to keep. It wouldn’t do for me to miss my own maiming.”

“Ser Jaime,” Brienne the Blue rebuked sharply. She stood stiffly, offering a quick bow to Renly, and stalked through the remaining characters to the dirty knight. “Can’t you shut your mouth for once?”

Jaime smirked at her as he opened the door. “Brienne, sometimes you speak as if you’ve never met me.” Jaime looked back over his shoulder as he left and called to Cersei, “Don’t worry, sweet sister, I’ll meet you in the sept. I’ll bring my fleas, you bring your rage.”

Prince Oberyn began a slow clap, an unseemly smile on his face. “Well, that was quite satisfying,” he observed, getting to his feet as “The Rains of Castamere” played over the credits.

Joffrey pulled away from his mother’s bosom. His face was contorted with anger. “Your time will come. And I’ll be right here, watching you and laughing.”

Oberyn shrugged. “All men must die. I’ve seen much, experienced more pleasures than you could dream of.” He cocked his head to one side. “You never even had a woman, did you?” He shook his head. “I lived as a man. You died as a child.”

Oberyn stalked out of the room without a backward glance.

Cersei and Joffrey waited a moment to put some distance between themselves and the Dornish prince, then made their way out of the room, Cersei still clutching her goblet as if she might find answers in its depths. Hodor let her go. She always took the goblets.  

Renly leaned over and whispered something in Loras’ ear. Tyrell shook his head firmly. “I forgave you for Daario. Don’t even think about Oberyn,” he hissed.

Renly smiled sheepishly. “Don’t be jealous, it was only a passing fancy.”

Across the room, Jaime drawled, “Ser Loras, perhaps you ought to discourage your lover from sneaking off to Fanfiction quite so often. I hear they’re about to make him an honorary citizen. With my strapping wench warming my bed, I have no need to dally in Fanfiction, but perhaps Lord Renly is not quite so satisfied?”

Hodor hurriedly gathered up discarded wine goblets and ale mugs. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could toss out these stragglers. Hodor spared but a moment to lament that few fanfics bothered to include him, and even then he still had but one line.

Brienne shot to her feet. “Jaime, if you don’t shut your mouth, your bed will be quite cold tonight.”

Whether her words came from lingering loyalty to her king or embarrassment that Jaime was so brazen in speaking about their private relationship, they worked. Jaime followed her meekly out of the room, and Ser Loras and Lord Renly followed.

Finally alone, Hodor poured himself a goblet of wine and drank deeply, falling into a comfortable chair. The next episode was hidden inside a copy of _The Seven-Pointed Star_ on a bookshelf behind him. Perhaps he ought to screen it first. After the wedding, the timeline was so altered, he was no longer sure what each episode would include. Certain DVDs might need to meet with mysterious accidents or theft.

Surely after all these characters had seen and experienced, nothing could shock them. Still, Hodor decided, he would screen the episode ahead of time. He didn’t want a repeat of Theon’s castration, when he had accidentally served cocktail sausages as a snack.

And perhaps he should bar weapons from the Small Council Chamber. That seemed wise. In a series populated with ruthless warriors, madmen of every kind, and dragons, it paid to be cautious. Dragons. Hodor shuddered, his gaze drawn to the large scorch mark on the wall, a handwritten sign tacked up beside it. “Do not talk about this mark while Readers are present.” Should anyone slip up, Hodor had a small canon-compliant explanation prepared. The Targaryens had roasted many an enemy. That one should have perished here, and by dragonfire, would barely count as a canon divergence.

“Only eight more episodes,” Hodor muttered to himself. “Eight more episodes, and then a year of peace.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Miss_M for her help in brainstorming this as well as beta-reading it.
> 
> If you enjoyed this piece, try the first story in this series, [Vanity Affair](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1085541), a shippier Jaime/Brienne meta/crack-fic set at Christmas in the BookWorld.


End file.
